They sat in an abandoned luncheonette   Sipping imaginary cola and drawing faces in the tabletop dust   His voice was rusty from years as a sergeant on "this man's army"   They were old and crusty      She was twenty when the diner was a baby   He was the dishwasher, busy in the back, his hands covered with   Gravy   Hair black and wavy   Brilliantine slick, a pot - cleaning dandy   He was young and randy      Day to day, to day today   Then they were old, their lives wasted away   Month to month, year to year   They all run together   Time measured by the peeling of paint on the luncheonette wall      They sat together in the empty diner   Filled with cracked china   Old news was blowing across the filthy floor   And the sign on the door read "this way out", that's all it read   That's all it said